


Like a Dog

by aravenwood



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Asphyxiation, Bullying, Gen, Kink Meme, Poor Prompto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-29 00:58:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12619504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aravenwood/pseuds/aravenwood
Summary: Written for the prompt "Prompto is strangled with a belt".





	Like a Dog

**Author's Note:**

> I've been scrolling through unfilled prompts over on the kink meme and found this one, and it dragged me out of a minor writer's block. 
> 
> Full prompt;
> 
> Clarus is overseeing the training and Prompto is in the group Clarus is supervising. One of the other trainees don't like that Clarus is friendly with Prompto so he decides to "teach" Prompto a lesson by strangling Prompto with his belt
> 
> +Clarus had left a water bottle in the training room and he was going back to get it when he comes across this happening
> 
> ++The belt leaves harsh red marks on Prompto's neck, the trainees laughing that it makes Prompto look like a dog

“Good, Prompto, keep it up! Come on Matt, faster, if you slow now you’ll never get the speed back!” Clarus called from the sidelines as several of the trainees raced. Prompto was in the lead, but only just, one of the other trainees gaining on him with every stride. He pushed himself harder, encouraged by Clarus’s words and determined to win so as not to disappoint him. The other boy, Matt, was the slowest of the group and Prompto had no doubt he was at the back of the pack. He was _always_ at the back.

Prompto lunged over the chalk-white line on the ground and stumbled to a stop, hands on his knees and wheezing for air. Clarus was still calling encouragement to the other boys, congratulating them as they finished all the while pushing Matt to continue. It was clear the boy was struggling; his sprint had slowed to a lumbering jog and his face was bright red. His mouth hung open as he fought for each breath.

“Come on, Matt, just a little further, you can do it!” Prompto called because once upon a time, he was that boy. The one barely able to complete one lap without collapsing on his belly and choking on air, the one the PE teacher always rolled their eyes at and made snide little comments about his size. Except Matt wasn’t fat like he had been; he was skinny with hints of muscle on his torso and arms, but none on his legs. He was a lifter, a cruncher, but not a runner. Apparently he hadn’t even wanted to join the Crownsguard but the legacy of his father left him with little choice. Prompto really did feel bad for him.

The boy literally fell across the line and coughed into the sand. His wheezes didn’t improve and he seemed unable to breathe in anything other than clouds of sand. He was suffocating, Prompto thought, and Clarus seemed to agree because he hurried to assist; rolled the boy onto his side and encouraged him to breathe slowly, carefully, like he was having an attack. Maybe that was what was happening – an asthma attack or maybe a panic attack. Prompto grimaced at the thought.

Some of the other trainees were crowding to watch the scene as it unfolded, whispering to one another and sniggering. “He’s nothing like his pa, he’s just weak and useless, Shield Amicitia should kick him out before he kills himself,” one boy whispered, and the rest laughed. Prompto winced and briefly considered jumping to Matt’s defence, but knew from experience that it would only make things worse in the future.

Clarus pulled his attention away from Matt for long enough to address Prompto. “I’m taking him to the medics. Watch the group while I’m gone?” he said in a voice that left no room for argument. Prompto nodded as a formality despite the fact that the shield already had Matt on his feet and draped half over a shoulder, dragging him as he struggled to focus. His eyes twitched anxiously, unable to concentrate on any one thing, even breathing.

“I-I’ll get another race going?” Prompto suggested. He didn’t want to do anything of the sort, but if he didn’t then Clarus would be angry or even worse, disappointed. On the other hand, if he did make the trainees work while no one was there to watch them then they might not even do as he said. It was as if there was no right answer, only various ways he could mess up.

He straightened up as Clarus pulled Matt away from the training area and said with only a slight stutter, “guess we should get to work then, right?” A roar of laughter answered him. He joined in hesitantly, unsure if they were laughing at him or the idea of training with no one around to watch.

One of the older trainees, a nineteen year old boy with a naturally angry face, scrunched up his face. “Not surprising he left you in charge. Real teacher’s pet, aren’t you? Always were, I bet. Loser.” He shoved Prompto hard in the shoulder and laughed when he fell on his back. “Losers belong on the floor.”

Prompto sunk his teeth hard into his lip to hold back a retort. If he said anything then he could guarantee that this would get worse and it was bad enough being shoved around like he was fourteen all over again.

“You know what else belongs on the floor?” sneered another boy, who Prompto knew was called Reg after the king himself. He held up a black leather belt and grinned. “Dogs.”

The first boy laughed. “I think you’re right, Reg. He looks like a dog down there, and every good dog needs a collar.”

Reg knelt next to Prompto and lifted one leg over his hips so he was pinning the blond boy down. He twisted one hand in Prompto’s hair and pulled so that his head was off the ground for long enough for him to slide the belt under his neck, then dropped it.

“No, you don’t need to do this. I’m not a dog, see? No tail, no fluff, no big, slobbery tongue. No dog here, just a lot of humans, and humans don’t need collars, they’re free, and if you put a collar on a human then you’re just enslaving them and that’s illegal, so really you’re just committing a crime, and you don’t want to do that, do you? You do that and you’ll never get into the Crownsguard, you’ll just go to jail,” Prompto rambled tearfully as he struggled to run away from the belt. But there it was still at his neck, the buckle tightening over his throat. The edge of the leather bit into his flesh and just when he thought it was over and they were going to fasten it, it kept squeezing, squeezing, squeezing until he couldn’t breathe.

He fought to escape, and when that didn’t work he fought to make any kind of noise. But his throat was completely closed and he couldn’t get any air in never mind make a sound. So this was it, then. This was how he was going to die – in silence and like a dog. What a way to go.

The world grew quiet and then louder, but he realised quickly that the noise wasn’t coming from the world itself but inside his head; a loud, intrusive ringing that blocks out any other noise. And there are spots in his eyes; big, black spots that interrupt Reg’s face. He was almost angry that they don’t block out the sadistic joy in the other boy’s face, or the mix of shocked and amused expressions from the rest of them. The crowd had started to disperse out of sheer discomfort – maybe they were actually doing as he said. He wished Reg would go with them.

There was a pressure building in his head, and he knew that it should worry him, but he just couldn’t find the strength to feel anything but acceptance. He was going to die here with the belt around his neck, and there was nothing he could do about that so what was the point in fighting it? It was almost peaceful…

And then the tightness was gone from his throat and the world slowly regained its colour and sound, and he could vaguely hear Clarus talking to him, telling him to breathe and that it was okay.

Behind Clarus, two members of the Crownsguard had Reg by the arms and were pulling him away. The belt was on the ground nearby and Prompto tried to worm away from it as if it would magically return to its former position.

A hand rubbed circles over his shoulder blades. “It’s alright, Prompto, it’s alright now. Deep breaths, son,” Clarus soothed.

“Still looks like a dog, look at that collar,” someone whispered and a few people chuckled. The laughs stopped when Clarus rounded on them.

“Do you really think demeaning someone in this way will get you where you want to be? You think that boy is being dragged away for a reward?” he snapped. His face softened so he was almost smirking. “And to the Prince’s best friend of all people? I thought trainees had to be smarter than this, eh Prompto?”

Prompto just blinked up at him, fighting to regain his breath.

Clarus sighed. “Dismissed. 9am tomorrow morning, if any of you are late you’ll be running laps until sundown.”

When everyone else was gone, he picked Prompto up in his arms and carried him away from the training grounds. “Two boys to the medics today, they’ll think I’m working you to death.” He paused. “Those marks, they’ll go away soon enough, and until then a scarf will work well enough. If you need one let me know.”

Prompto smiled weakly up at him and mouthed a thanks. He could barely focus on Clarus, but he tried anyway. Tried to focus on the king’s shield, a “hardass” according to Noct. But really, the guy wasn’t all that bad.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, thanks for reading!


End file.
